


Self Reflected

by Rhube



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Swap, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Sharing a Bed, arseholes to lovers, bed sharing, but Fenders is the aim of the game, minor Hawke/Anders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-02 06:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11503356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhube/pseuds/Rhube
Summary: Anders and Fenris wake up in each other's bodies. Good old-fashioned body-swap.More tags to be added as the story progresses.





	1. The morning after the night before

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise to everyone who is awaiting something else I already started. I was moving house and I didn't have internet for weeks, thought frantically about everything I wanted to write or post but couldn't because I was too tired/had no internet, and kind of wore those old tracks of thought out.
> 
> I'd rather write something that I'm feeling excited about than force out something bad and disappoint people that way. Aaaaand - I'm talking about body swaps in a panel at Nine Worlds in a few weeks, so I thought I should finally write one instead of just obsessing about other people's?

His head throbbed. His mouth tasted like dead stoat. The world wouldn't stop spinning. If Anders didn't know better he'd have thought he was hungover.

Really hungover.

Like, you knew you should stop because you felt sick but then you had another bottle hungover.

But he couldn't be. Justice never would have allowed it.

Frankly, _he_ wouldn't have allowed it. He was no longer young enough or stupid enough to think that this kind of drinking was fun.

The continued spinning of the room, however, begged to differ.

And something definitely didn't feel right about the room.

Light. Airy. Much too quiet. He couldn't hear the regular clank of the foundries above. And it smelt... musty. Not the clean smell of hard-packed earth and elfroot he associated with his clinic.

Not to mention that this was a real bed. Mattress and everything. A large one, too. A far cry from the stiff canvas camp bed he usually slept on.

He might have wondered if he had got lucky, except that no one this hungover could be considered lucky.

With a groan, he rolled onto his side, flopped a hand against his head, and reached for his healing magic.

The familiar pull of the Fade felt different. Wrong.

Or rather, when he reached for the power of the Fade, he seemed to hit something else. Something closer to home. Something buried in his skin. _Embedded_ within him.

Anders cried out as his skin suddenly felt like it was on fire, and then he was crashing _through_ the mattress, smacking hard against a tiled floor as he immediately drew back from that power.

He was underneath the bed.

He panted, his already queasy stomach churning at the sudden impact and the decidedly unpleasant feeling of having passed _through_ the mattress. Feeling straw and slats of wood scratch at his abused insides.

Something was very, very wrong.

 _Justice_. He reached out towards the spirit.

Nothing.

"No, no, no," he said out loud, and became conscious that even his voice sounded wrong. Deeper. Much deeper.

He couldn't... process what had happened to him. Not when the world kept spinning and his skin burned and every inch of him _itched_ with the sensation of having passed _through_ something else.

Swallowing against the rising bile, he reached for the edge of the bed and pulled himself out from underneath. Sitting up, the world lurched around him, but he willed himself to ignore it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened eyes that he had closed against his lurching vision.

It still wavered and juddered as he looked down at himself, but there was no denying what he saw: warm brown skin etched with fine, swirling silver lines.

He reached a trembling hand up into his hair, brushing white locks over his face. Then feeling for his ears and finding them, long... pointed. Elven.

He didn't have any idea how this could have happened, but there was no denying it. This was Fenris's body, and his own was nowhere in sight.


	2. The spirit and the magic without the mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice and Fenris deal poorly with being in the same body, and the absence of Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that I'm updating so slowly at the moment. Almost all my free time is dedicated to job-hunting. ARGH.

The strange new consciousness that was _not_ Anders finally awoke.

Justice held himself tight and away from that being as much as he could. He was tied to this body, and to the man it belonged to, but that man was no longer present, and though he _had_ to cling on to this new person, tendrils of himself enmeshed with that being, he _would not_ combine with him as he had with Anders. It would not be fair. It would not be _right_. For either of them.

Nothing about this was right. He needed Anders back, but Justice didn't even know where his friend - the other half of his existence - had gone.

***

Fenris awoke slowly. His back was stiff. Canvas rasped against his skin as he shifted, but it felt almost as though he'd been sleeping on a plank of wood.

Groaning, he stretched, and his hands hit the wall and the side of a desk.

Fenris frowned. Where was he? This was not his bed.

Alertness slammed into him. The clank of some great machine sounded above him. The air felt dusty - fresher than his own neglected bedroom, but... off. The room felt much bigger than it should have. A warehouse, maybe? Had he been captured?

Eyes open he jumped from the bed, despite protesting muscles. This was not his room. This was not the mansion. This was very definitely not where he had gone to sleep. If he had been taken, then...

Instinctively, Fenris reached for the power of raw lyrium carved into his skin... and found something else. Something vaster.

A great rush of power.

Flame shot from his hands, lighting the jumbled piles of paper on the desk like tinder, catching the scratchy woolen blanket and the canvas of the bed.

Panic rose within him and more fire burst forth from his palms, power coursing through him uncontrolled.

Then something clamped down about him, like iron manacles on his mind.

 _Something else_ rushed forward, and the world seemed split with blue light, but not as it was when the lyrium in his skin activated - it was like some vast well of power pushing him aside, pushing _through_ him, fragmenting him, sundering him from within and-

His arms moved without his control. Ice shot from his fingertips in an arc, dousing the flames.

Staring in horror, Fenris became aware for the first time that the arm that moved smoothly before him was  _not_ his arm. It was paler, dusted with long blonde hairs. Thicker than his, but the muscles less clearly defined.

And no lyrium cut the skin.

Whatever the wild power was that had burst forth from him - flowed through him - its source was not the raw powder that Danarius had carved into him.

It was magic.

Somehow, he was in the body of a mage.

And it was a body of which he no longer had control.

Blind panic overwhelmed him again, and he felt the spirit that possessed him clamp down further. He threw himself against mental chains and found no purchase.

Silently, Fenris screamed.

***

Justice felt the person who was _not_ Anders scrabbling and lashing out within him.

This was not good. He could not allow the other to come forward - whoever they were, they had no understanding of magic, no control over the forces they could command at a thought or swell of emotion. And with a mage as powerful as Anders, there was no telling the damage they could cause, the havoc they could wreak.

 _Please be calm_ , he thought at the other, but this only seemed to provoke them further.

A head poked round the partition that secluded Anders' sleeping area from the rest of his clinic.

"Is everything O..." the woman broke off, her eyes taking in the spray of iced spikes, and Anders' form, cut, as Justice knew it would be, by cracks of fade light, revealing his presence. He would need to deal with this.

"Everything is fine," he said with Anders' mouth, acutely aware that he would not _sound_ like Anders just now. "I had an accident, but it is now under control."

The woman stared at him. Brown-haired and dark skinned. What was her name? Not Lirene - Justice knew that one... Anders would have known, but he could not draw on Anders' memories now. "Are you sure?" she asked, doubtfully. "You look..."

He knew how he looked. Not disfigured as an abomination, but not natural, either. He would need to disguise this as long as he was forced to be in control.

"Yes," Justice confirmed, pulling a large and loose-fitting cloak from the trunk at the end of Anders' bed. "I have had a small... magical accident. Please excuse me. I must find Hawke to help me... correct it." He pulled the cloak on and over his head.

Concern was written on the woman's face. "Be careful," she said. "If the Templars see you like that... perhaps you should put on a shirt as well?"

Justice looked down. She was correct. The bright blue light of his power was peeking through the gap at the front of the cloak where Anders' chest was bare.

"Yes," Justice said. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was... rattled by this."

Sympathy replaced the uncertainty in her features. "I can see why. I'll look after the clinic while you're gone."

"Thank you," Justice said, relieved that he seemed to have convinced her. Taking the cloak off again to find a shirt, Justice fervently hoped Anders' friend could help.


	3. Friends in need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice arrives at Hawke's estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the muse is with me today.

The door of Hawke's new estate swung open to reveal a blond-haired dwarf of middle years, who started back when Justice pulled down his hood. Justice recognised him as Bodahn, the dwarven merchant who had joined them on the Deep Roads excursion.

"Please do not be afraid," Justice said. "I must speak with Hawke."

"Are - are you quite alright, meserre?" Bodahn asked.

"I am... unwell," Justice replied, unsure how to describe his condition without alarming the dwarf further. "I am hoping Hawke can help."

"Al-alright," Bodahn said. "Best come in off the street, I suppose. Avoid drawing attention."

Justice nodded. "Thank you, I would appreciate it."

He had been able to feel the renewed interest of the other person inhabiting Anders' body as they approached the estate. His attempts to regain control had subsided as they made their way through Kirkwall. Fear permeated the awareness they both reluctantly shared, but Justice had tried to convey that his custody of their body was for both of their sakes, that they could not afford another accident like the fire at the clinic in so populous a place. The thought had sent another spike of fear through his companion, but the struggles had subsided. He hoped the other person understood, but they held themselves so close it was hard to tell, and Justice did not want to compromise their personal integrity further by pressing on that.

As they waited in the estate's foyer for Hawke, he sensed keen alertness from that other being, and when Hawke appeared in the doorway, they surged forward. It was all Justice could do to retain control. He grunted, closing his eyes, then started when he felt Hawke's hands upon him.

"Anders, are you OK?"

Justice shook his head. "I am not Anders," he said, breathing hard from the effort of keeping the other down. "And something is very much wrong."

Hawke pushed back his head and he opened his eyes to meet Hawke's. He read concern and fear there. "Justice," Hawke said. "What happened? Let me speak to Anders."

Justice shook his head, the depth of his own fear rising inside him as he was forced to explain to Anders' friend. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't. Anders is no longer here."

Anger flashed in Hawke's eyes and he shoved Justice back against the wall. "What do you mean, he isn't here? Where is he? What have you _done_?"

His spike of fear mixed with that of his passenger, and he forced himself to regain control less the shared emotion bind them too closely. "Nothing. Nothing, Hawke, I swear it. Something happened in the night while Anders' sleeping mind was in the Fade. He was pulled from me, and someone else was left in his place."

The colour drained from Hawke's face. "Someone else?"

Justice nodded. "They are terrified. I cannot calm them, and they cannot control Anders' powers. This is very dangerous, Hawke. You must help me find Anders. We must fix this."

Hawke stared at him for several long seconds before he released him and stepped back. "Who is it?" he asked. "Who else is trapped in there with you?"

Justice shook his head. "I do not know. They pull back from me, and it would not be wise for me to press a deeper bonding. It is important that this be resolved quickly. It would not be just for me to join with someone else and I fear we cannot remain separate for long."

Another spike of fear within him. He could sense the other listening very intently to their conversation.

"I need to talk to this other person," Hawke said. "You should..." some emotion flitted across Hawke's face that he could not read. "You shouldn't be using his body like this. _Especially_ if he isn't here."

"I agree," Justice replied. "But I cannot give the other person control where they can use Anders' power to hurt others. They nearly destroyed Anders' clinic."

Hawke searched the face that Justice wore, as though looking for any sign of Anders, and Justice acutely missed his friend. This was not right. He had never had control of his host's body for so long,and the longer it went on, the harder it was to ignore his own growing concern for Anders.

"Alright," Hawke said at last. "Come with me. My bathroom is at least... less flammable than the rest of the house. And I'll contain as much as I can if anything goes wrong. But I... I have to talk to them. We need to know what's happened."

Justice nodded, and sensed relief from his companion.

***

Fenris endured the sensation of his body being _walked for him_ , only marginally less worrying than the fact that _this was not actually his body_.

It was Anders' body.

He had realised, of course, long before the spirit had said as much to Hawke, but it had taken some time. The overwhelming panic he had felt - at the magic that had flowed through him uncontrolled, at feeling his body controlled by someone else, like a puppet, at the knowledge that this body _was not his own_ and he had no idea where his own body was - for a while he had simply been unable to think. Fighting without knowing how to fight for control of a body he did not understand. But eventually understanding had seeped through.

He had been in Anders' clinic. He was in the body of a mage. A possessed mage. The conclusion that he inhabited Anders' body was not so very hard to reach.

The spirit's own fear when he had admitted that he did not know where Anders was had surprised him with its urgency, and for the first time Fenris had the presence of mind to wonder where Anders was, too. And he realised just how much worse things could get if they were unable to find the mage.

What if Anders were dead?

Anders' body stopped in its tracks, and he felt the attention of the spirit upon him.

 _He cannot be dead_. An echo of the spirit's thought, like distantly heard speech. More immediate: the thundering of his heart. No. Anders' heart. Anders' heart beating frantically with the mage nowhere in sight.

Fenris realised that his thought had reached the spirit, and the very idea filled it with dread. Strange, would the spirit not want this body to itself - without Anders - if it could?

 _No, never_ , the thought louder in his mind now. _I have never wanted that. He cannot be dead. We_ will _get him back_.

And the spirit was walking again with renewed purpose behind Hawke.

At last, they reached the bathroom, and the spirit was asking Hawke if he were ready. Hawke nodded, and the spirit's voice flooded his mind, much louder than before:

 _Be calm_.

It was as though the world swam back into focus. All sensations were brighter. He felt, free, he felt...

Ice shot from his fingertips, spraying the room with deadly crystal spikes. He screamed, but was glad to see the magic glance off Hawke's shield.

"Try to be calm," Hawke said, though his own voice thrummed with tension.

"I can't, I don't know how," Fenris said, unnerved at how like Anders he sounded.

"You don't have to," Hawke said, walking forward with his hands out. "Don't try to do anything, just calm down. Focus on your breathing."

He could do that. Like a meditation done to bring focus in a fight. Like the Fog Warriors had practiced on Seheron. He took deep, slow, steadying breaths.

The magic coursing through him stilled, and no new ice crystals formed on his frosted palms.

"Who are you?" Hawke asked, much closer to him now.

"Fenris," he said, between deep breaths. "I'm Fenris."


	4. Hawke and Fenris find Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris both struggle to control their new powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick and super low on energy and apparently this means I'm writing you a lot of fic today. Hopefully that's OK?

Anders had managed to pull himself through into the bathroom, wrapping a sheet from the bed around him.

Fenris, apparently, slept naked. And while the glimpse of hard muscles on the slender form he now inhabited had been gratifying, Anders felt a bit weird about the fact that he now knew that the markings extended everywhere. He hadn't deliberately looked, but... it felt like a very personal fact to have just looked down and found out.

It was certainly something he was too hungover to think about right now. He preferred to focus on the fact that Fenris had an indoor privy, so he had somewhere to throw up in.

That was where he was, curled up next to the wooden seat, when he heard people bursting into the mansion down below, calling his name.

"In here!" he tried to call out, but couldn't manage to make it very loud. At the sound of running feet on the stairs, he tried again. "In here!"

"Anders!" Hawke's relief was apparent in his voice. "Is it really you?"

Anders groaned. "What's left of me," he said, forcing himself to turn around, slumping against the wall.

And there he was. Him. Anders. From the outside. Dressed in an old moth-eaten cloak he hadn't used for years, and frowning deeply.

Just like Fenris.

" _You_ ," he said pointedly to the man inhabiting his body. "You drink too much. And it's beyond unfair that I'm having to deal with it."

Fenris opened his mouth - Anders' mouth - to protest, but then Justice surged forward. Blue light split his skin and shone from his eyes. Anders gasped. He had never seen this from the outside before. Never seen himself like this.

It was beautiful and terrible.

The spirit moved quickly across the room and pulled him into an embrace. "Anders, is it really you?"

He laughed, both touched and unnerved to find himself embraced by his own arms. "Of course it's me. What did you think had happened when you woke up and found Fenris there?"

Justice shook his head. "I did not know." He pressed their foreheads together. "Anders, you must return. We should not be separate like this. I should not be joined to someone else. He has not agreed to this. He cannot control your power. Please."

Strange as it was to be held by himself, it was also soothing. He realised, being so close like this, just how wrong it felt to be in Fenris's skin. How much he longed to be back where he belonged. He gripped his shoulders and laughed breathlessly to feel himself so close, and yet not be where he should be.

"I would if I could, Justice, but I don't know how." He took a deep, steadying breath. "And you can't do this," he said, pushing distance between them. "It's not fair. Like you say, he did not agree to being taken over like this. Please. Please pull back."

Blue eyes of light bore into him, but then the spirit nodded, and they faded to brown.

For a moment, he and Fenris simply stared at each other. And then his body pulled away from him, and he had to resist the urge to grab him and pull him back.

"What did you do?" Fenris asked, the question sounding stange. His own voice, but lower, at the bottom end of his register, as though Fenris were struggling to sound more like himself.

"Me?" he asked. "I did nothing. I did some healing in my clinic and went to bed! You're the one who drank his way through half a dozen bottles of wine. What the fuck were _you_ doing?"

"Two bottles," Fenris protested. "I only had two."

Anders rolled his eyes. "There's nothing 'only' about two bottles of wine. You shouldn't do _this_ to your body. I feel like _death_."

Hawke approached and sank down beside him. "Would you like me to help you with that?" he asked.

"Oh Maker, _please_ ," he said. "I tried the moment I woke up and ended up falling through the bloody bed. You and your _stupid_ markings." He shot Fenris a glare, hoping it looked just as deadly as every evil look the elf had ever shot at him.

"Yes, well, apparently Fenris nearly set fire to have of Darktown," Hawke said, putting a hand to the side of his face, "so..."

Anders looked sharply at Fenris. "You did what? Is my clinic OK? Did you hurt anyone?"

Hawke turned his head back to face him. "Stay still, none of this is Fenris's fault either."

"Well, that's easy for you-" he broke off as a blissful wash of healing magic fell over him. His headache cleared and the feeling of nausea slowly retreated. His mouth still tasted like sewage, but there was nothing magic could do about that. "Bless you, Hawke," he said, then turned his eyes back to Fenris. "But I need to know. Is the clinic OK? What happened?"

It was strange and a little humourous to watch his body shifting uncomfortably as Fenris looked down at his feet. "The clinic is fine," he said. "Your demon..." Fenris paused, and Anders wondered if Justice had had something to say about that. "Your _demon_ ," Fenris repeated, firmly, "took control and doused the flames."

"Oh, good," Anders said. "How very demonic of him."

His own eyes fixed him with a glare. "He seized control and would not allow me to do anything until we reached Hawke's." Anders winced. He knew how unnerving it could be when Justice took over, and he was used to it.

"It was probably for the best, Fenris," Hawke said, gently. "You were not in control of Anders' magic. It's lucky, really, that you didn't do more damage."

Anders felt the surge of power from Fenris's anger like a burn racing over the lyrium in his skin. "Hawke-" he had only begun the warning when a blast of fire rolled out across the room. Instinctively he reached for the fade to try to shield himself and Hawke from Fenris, but of course, he found the power of the markings instead.

Suddenly he was sliding through stone - cold and grainy and suffocating - and then he was out on the other side, shrieking as he fell through the air, crashing into the wooden slats of a broken bed with sharp and powerful pain as he re-solidified.

By the time Hawke and Fenris came into the room he was curled up in a ball on his side. He didn't _think_ anything was broken, but the inability to tell and heal himself instantly was unsettling and frustrating.

But no, from the eerie light, he knew this was not Fenris - it was Justice again.

"Justice," he said through the pain. "You have to let him be in control."

"He has hurt you," Justice was saying, moving over to him.

"No," Anders said. "I hurt me. Please."

Hawke leaned over him, and he felt the tingle of healing magic not merely washing through him, as Hawke checked for injuries, but as a vibration in his _skin_. Was this what Fenris felt every time they used magic?

"Anders, hold still," Hawke said.

"Mmm-hmm," Anders agreed, rather inclined to avoid ever moving again.

Another wash of healing magic and a fresh tingle in the markings all over him. Not painful as the elemental magic had been, but also not exactly pleasant. But then the pain in his ribs and down his side eased and he sighed with gratitude.

"Thank you," he said, and the shift in the light told him that Justice had retreated.

Looking over to his body, he saw fear written in his brown eyes. His hands were held out as though to steady himself, and he was trembling. "I'm sorry," Fenris said with his voice. "This is difficult."

"Yes, well," said Anders, reluctantly sitting up. "Likewise. Besides, most people don't have the power of a fully-grown mage when they first come into their magic."

Hawke was looking at Fenris appraisingly. "Are you sure it wouldn't be best for Justice to be in control? At least for a while. It seems like-"

" _No_ ," both men spoke at the same time, and he could see Fenris's surprise written on his own face at finding they were in agreement.

"It's not comfortable, when he does that," Anders said. "And this is... it's unnerving enough as it is."

He shifted and felt broken wood press into his bare backside. He was naked again, he realised. "Shit," he said, shifting his legs - Fenris's legs - to obscure his private bits from Hawke's gaze. "Hawke, could you maybe get me something to wear?"

"I'll go," Fenris said quickly, retreating too fast to be called back.

Hawke's worried gaze followed him. "He _is_ dangerous if he can't control himself," he said.

"Yes, well," Anders said. "So are you. So am I." He gestured to the wreckage of the bed that had broken his fall. "He has as much right to freedom as any other mage and... it's one thing, that Justice can take over me sometimes - I agreed to it. But it's quite another for him to take control of my body while someone else is in it. I don't think it would be good for either of them. And you're not going to help him calm down by keeping him a prisoner in his own head. My own head. You know what I mean."

Hawke sighed. "If you say so." Then he surprised Anders by pulling him into a bear hug. "I'm so glad we found you. Fenris was worried you might be gone completely and I-" he shook his head. "I don't know what I would have done."

Anders flushed, and was surprised to feel the heat travel all the way up the length of his ears. Hawke had flirted with him in the past... but then, Hawke flirted with everyone. The man would have been worried if _any_ of his friends were missing or in danger.

Best not to read too much into it.

He shifted his legs to make sure Fenris's dignity was still protected, then leaned against Hawke as they waited for Fenris to return.


	5. A reflection on nudity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris goes to get Anders some clothes, then helps him dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be so long between updates. I'm on holiday at the moment with irregular access to the Internet and things were going full pelt work-wise before that. My brain's been going wild with angsty and sexy ideas for this story whilst I've been away from the keyboard. I want to get to those points, but these guys have some stuff to work through first. This one might even turn out to be a slow burn o_O
> 
> Not gonna update the tags until I know for sure. I do rather like getting to the sexy bits, but I think Anders and Fenris are gonna have a lot to shout at each other first.

Fenris was trembling as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He tucked his hands - Anders' hands - into his armpits to still them.

 _Anders can help you to control his powers_.

The voice of the demon. Fenris shuddered and pressed on.

_I am sorry for taking control. I was concerned for Anders. He is vulnerable like this. You must learn-_

"Yes!" Fenris shouted, his voice echoing through the dilapidated hall. "Shut up!"

The presence that had itched and flickered at the front of his consciousness receded. Fenris shook his head and entered the bedroom.

It was just as he had left it... yet subtly different from how he remembered it. It took Fenris a few moments to realise what the difference was.

He was taller than before.

Anders was taller than he was. Not by much - he was tall for an elf - but Anders was tall for a human. And now he was seeing everything from a slightly different angle. The shift in perspective - the confrontation with small yet unfathomable differences in every part of himself - shook him. Made him sway and catch the door frame to steady himself.

Fenris stared at the hand against the frame. Too pale. Too large. Unmarked by harsh white lines of lyrium - lines carved into his flesh, packed with poisoned dust. And yet this hand was just as deadly. The hand of a mage. A mage not in control of his magic.

Him.

He breathed in deep and let it out again. He was here to find clothes.

Fenris crossed to the chest at the foot of his bed, threw it open, and scooped out a pair of leggings and a tunic.

He glanced at the pieces of armour scattered across the floor. He'd feel better if his body were protected whilst under Anders' charge, and the lyrium etchings on the inside of the hide would ensure that, should there be any future accidents, his armour and the clothes underneath would follow with his body wherever Anders took it.

Sighing, Fenris collected the pieces. They were a jumble that he struggled to sort with clumsy, over-large hands. He pulled out the bag he used in trips to the Wounded Coast and stuffed his armour inside.

***

Hawke had found Anders a blanket by the time Fenris returned, so at least he hadn't been entirely nude the whole time. There was a self-consciousness about being naked in Fenris's body that was totally different to how he felt about being naked in his own.

In the Circle, nakedness had been a pleasure, a rebellion - moments stolen in a dark store room where the door might have opened at any time.

At Vigil's Keep, it had been freedom. Boldness. Embarrassing and seducing Nathaniel with the confidence he felt in his own body, and laughing at the novelty of being casually nude - no templars, no fear of punishment. Wearing the Grey Warden taint like a shield.

And then with Justice, well, there hadn't been much call to be nude in company since they had joined, but the spirit had no compunctions about nakedness itself. Clothing was worn for the sake of convention and nothing more. Anders had cared even less about the prospect of being seen naked than he had before - had barely thought about the subject for years.

But this wasn't Anders' body. And he did not share it with a spirit of justice. Fenris's body was, well, he's had enough time alone with it, even hungover, to know the man's powerful muscles were quite beautiful up close. Hawke had been respectful, but the occasional dip of his eyes expressed an interest that made Anders conscious that this wasn't his body to display.

He'd felt better once he'd pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, but better still when Fenris had returned and tossed a tunic and leggings at him.

The sight of his own body looking at him with golden-brown eyes was no less unsettling than the first time. He looked away, pulling the blanket down and about his lap to free his arms to dress.

"Thank you," he said to Fenris. He received only a grunt in response.

The tunic was tight, but slid down over his torso with a bit of tugging. The leggings... also looked tight. He wasn't sure how easily he would be able to put them on under the sheet.

Anders glanced at Hawke. "Do you mind?" he asked the other mage.

Hawke blinked. "Mind what?"

Anders coughed. "A bit of privacy, maybe? I mean, I'm pretty sure Fenris has seen it all before, but..."

Hawke's eyes widened. "Oh!" he said. "Sorry, of course." He scrambled to his feet. "Sorry Fenris. Anders. I wasn't looking I just... I'll be outside."

His cheeks reddened, Hawke left the room.

Anders met his own eyes briefly, and saw Fenris looking back. He couldn't read the look, but what had he expected? Thanks for common decency?

He sighed, stood, and began to dress.

"These are unreasonably tight, you know," Anders said as he struggled with one leg. "How can you fight in them?"

He didn't think Fenris would respond at first, but at last he replied: "You are exaggerating. The material has some give."

Anders snorted, but had to admit that once he had the thing pulled above the knee, it wasn't so bad. The stirrup at the bottom was ludicrous, though.

"I hope you don't expect me to walk around barefoot everywhere," he said, still unnerved to hear Fenris's rich baritone come out of his mouth.

"Do what you want," he said. "But you will be the only elf in the city in shoes."

Anders frowned and looked up at him. "I've seen elves in shoes, I'm sure of it."

His own eyebrow arched back at him with what was a decidedly un-Anders-like expression. "Yes, I'm sure you've paid great attention to this city's elves."

"I see more than you'd think," Anders replied. "Or did you think they all went to the Gallows for their healing? And when did you last set foot in the Alienage anyway?"

Fenris grunted again. "Just get dressed," he said. "And here, put on this." He chucked a bag at Anders.

Inside was... leather. He ran his fingers over smooth planes and flat edges, then pulled a piece out. "Your armour?" He asked, frowning at one of Fenris's distinctive paldrons. "Fenris, I'm not a fighter. I - I don't know how to move in this, I-"

"Do you want to be naked again next time you fall through the floor?"

Anders frowned. "No. But I don't see-"

Fenris crossed the room and grabbed the paldron, flipping it over to reveal a dark underside shot with silver lines.

His brow cleared. "Lyrium," he said, "How did they-"

"Just put it on, mage," Fenris said. "It will come with you when you phase."

Anders looked dubiously at the object, then shrugged, and tried to see how to settle it on his shoulder.

Fenris sighed heavily and grabbed the paldron off him. "Don't start with that," he said. "Here." He up-ended the bag. Before Anders knew it, large hand - his hands - were pulling his bare arms up  and a breast plate was being lowered over his head. It brushed his ear and his gasped at the rough and foreign sensation. Fenris carried on.

Anders was tugged this way and that as Fenris dressed him. Not sure how to feel as he looked at his own body - so close to him, but somehow separate from him. Moving to someone else's direction. Saw his stubble up close. The lines in his brow when he frowned - when Fenris frowned.

The elf - man - _Fenris_ was absorbed in the action, but when he pulled back after it was complete, Anders caught his eye.

And they looked at one another.

Anders thought he could read the same confusion he felt in the brown eyes that should have been his.

Fenris raised one of Anders' hands towards him as if to touch him again, then let it fall. "This is strange," he said.

"Very."

Fenris looked down at his feet. "Well. At least you have my armour. We should rejoin Hawke. We should..."

When he didn't finish the sentence, Anders completed it for him. "We should find a way to fix this."

Fenris nodded.

Anders followed him out the door.


	6. In which Anders misses baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris bicker. Anders begins to realise that he thinks differently without Justice, possibly even that he wants different things.

As they made their way to Hawke's mansion, Anders pulled at Fenris's pauldrons. The armour didn't chafe exactly. It fit the body that wore it like a glove. But the person inside that body... was not used to armour.

"Stop it." Hearing his own voice from the outside still made him jump. "If you look like you're not used to wearing it you'll make an easy target."

Anders glared at him, still draped in the shapeless moth-eaten cloak he'd had since he was a warden. "Do I get to change what _you're_ wearing later?"

"These are _your_ clothes, mage." The look of disdain Fenris put on Anders' face was so out of place he couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes," he said, "which I never wear, and which you somehow found at the bottom of my trunk."

A flash of irritation in his eyes. "Your _demon_ dressed us. Take it up with him."

 _Oh._ "I... sorry," he said. "Justice doesn't really understand clothes."

Hawke raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face. "You mean, if it were up to Justice, you'd be walking around... naked?"

Anders groaned. "No," he said. "Justice understands that there are things like propriety and that it's important not to look too strange or offend people who don't _want_ to see you naked. But beyond that... he struggles a bit to see how one set of clothes is different to another, especially if the differences are not practical ones."

Fenris surprised him with a quickly stifled giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing," Fenris said. "Just that your demon has a different perspective on the matter."

Anders was hit by a mixture of irritation and jealousy. Fenris knew Justice's thoughts and he did not.

"Oh?" he said, trying to cover the sadness that rose up in him. "And what does he have to say for himself?"

He watched as the corners of his mouth quirked up. "The feathers, mage," Fenris said. "They are an odd choice for a man who wishes to stay hidden. He believes you are bitter that he has pointed this out."

Yes, that was what Justice thought. But it is not how he would have put it. Anders ached for the loss of connection with his friend.

"Right," he said, shortly, and walked on.

***

"OK," Hawke said as they entered his foyer, "We're going to go up to the bathroom where it's nice and safe in case Fenris makes another fireball, and I'm going to ask Bodahn to put a lovely soft mattress on the floor of the room below it in case Anders falls through the tiles. While I do that, I want you both to think long and hard about how you could possibly have gotten this way."

Anders shot Fenris a dark look, and met an accusatory glance from his own eyes in return.

 _Oh, this is going to go well_.

He let Fenris lead him up the stairs, having not been to the full, dwarven-heated bathroom in Hawke's new mansion before.

It was nice. He felt a pang of jealousy that Hawke had such luxury within his own home. There were public baths in Kirkwall, but Justice had never let him indulge in them when the few pennies admittance cost could have gone to healing supplies. All he had enjoyed for... years, probably, was a quick soap-up with a damp cloth and a bucket of water.

He hadn't missed it. Hadn't resented it. Knew he didn't need it.

But suddenly, alone in his head, he wanted nothing more than to fill the empty tub with water and soak until the water went cold.

Recognising that brought a sadness, but even the idea of it - even the regret for past baths foregone - was itself an indulgence he wasn't used to.

Just how much had joining with Justice changed him? How much had his desires actually changed, and how much had they simply been repressed under the all consuming need to change things for mages - to change the world for the better, and not just for himself?

It was too big a question. He shoved it away and sat down on the floor to wait for Hawke.

This wasn't what he was supposed to be thinking about. He was supposed to be thinking about how he'd got this way. How he'd ended up in Fenris's body.

He scraped his nail along the length of a white line of lyrium as he thought.

"Don't do that." His own voice shaking him from his reverie. "You will make them sore and achieve little else."

He glanced up, and then away. Didn't want to look into his own eyes for too long. Didn't want to admit Fenris was right.

"How do I control them?" he asked. "I've never seen you fall through the floor. How do I stop that?"

He could see the shape of his body shifting out of the corner of his eye, sitting down opposite him. "I don't know," Fenris said. "It was never an issue for me. It never occurred to me that I could."

That surprised him into looking back. Fenris was frowning, deep lines writing themselves on his brow. Was that how he looked when he frowned? Or did Fenris frown differently with his face? "It never occurred to you?" he asked.

Fenris shook his head, then met his eyes. "What are you thinking about when it happens?"

Anders shrugged, looking down again, away from the intensity and discomfort of that look. "I don't know. Blind panic. Like I'm trying to reach for the Fade and hitting something else instead. What do you think of?"

"What I want to happen." Fenris shrugged. "Reaching into a man's chest. Moving through my enemy so that I might cut him down from behind."

"You never think about it as walking through the Fade?" Anders asked.

He saw a ripple pass through his body like a shudder. "No. I don't think it is quite like that. More like stepping to the side and then charging forward to strike my target unhindered."

"Huh," Anders said. "Maybe that's it. It feels like the Fade, to me, so I expect it to be like the Fade. I've only been there once - in my Harrowing - but... it's very different. To this world. Anything could happen. So, I suppose, if a person can pass through objects... why shouldn't they fall through the floor?" He gave Fenris a weak smile. "Maybe it never happened to you because you never would have thought that it might."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps you slip through the floors because you are weak and you cannot maintain any kind of focus."

Anders blinked. "Hey, no need to be harsh - I'm just trying to figure this out before I break something serious!"

"Oh, of course," Fenris replied, his voice raised in pitch with a sarcasm that sounded uncomfortably familiar. "But when I am able to do exactly what I wish to do it is because I _never would have thought_ to do anything different. Do you assume I have no imagination because I am an elf, or because I am a _slave_?"

Anders stared. Something about hearing the accusations in his own voice made them hit home even harder. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I don't think of you like that."

Fenris snorted.

"Going well, is it?" Hawke asked as he burst through the door. "I'm sure the shouting I heard echoing through the house was the two of you agreeing on what must have happened for you to end up like this."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "It is pointless asking me. I am not the one who messes with forbidden magic regardless of consequence. Only one person in this room has made a deal with a demon. Ask _him_."

Anders sighed and buried his head in his hands... and felt the dull throb of lyrium in his finger tips, reminding him that these were not his hands at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in writing. It's hard when the characters have to work stuff out and you can't just jump straight to the sex.


	7. In which Fenris disapproves of a gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke forces Anders and Fenris to think properly about how they might have ended up in this situation, and Anders remembers that yesterday he received a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may need to look back over the preceding chapters to make things consistent. I only worked out why they swapped bodies today - very much pantsing this one. Think I positioned it a bit too early in Act 2 for Anders to have the amulet, but I can fix that with only minor tinkering.

"So... nothing then," said Hawke.

Anders sighed and lifted his head from lyrium lined hands. "Fenris did give me some advice on how to avoid falling through the floor. He couldn't help but be rude about it, that's all."

He could feel eyes boring into him from across the room. His own eyes. He refused to look at them.

"And I'm sure you were gracious in your acceptance of said advice, too."

"Hawke-" Anders protested.

"No, I don't want to hear it. Let's start again," Hawke said, sitting down on the floor between them. "Anders, you say you were in the clinic the whole of yesterday. You're sure you didn't go anywhere else? Nothing strange happened? No weird visitors?"

Anders snorted. "Only you," he said. "So unless the a- thing you gave me was cursed..." Anders caught himself just in time before mentioning that it was a Tevinter amulet that Hawke had given him, but still not soon enough.

" _What_ thing?" Fenris demanded.

Anders rolled his eyes. "Nothing. A gift."

Hawke was flushing a bit red. "Oh. I didn't think of that. But I'm sure it has nothing to do with-"

"What was it?" He wasn't going to let it go. And Anders had to admit he was probably right not to. Hawke found enchanted amulets all the time - Anders hadn't felt any magic on the item, but it would be foolish not to consider it if it could help get him back in his own body.

He cleared his throat. "An amulet. Hawke found it and gave it to me. I'm surprised you're not still wearing it, to be honest. I'm fairly sure I was wearing it when I went to bed."

Anders watched deep lines form over his brow as Fenris frowned. He raised a hand to his neck, long fingers feeling under his shirt, then raising a chain. "You mean this?" he said.

Anders blinked. "You knew you were wearing that all this time and didn't have any questions about it?"

Fenris continued to frown as he undid the clasp and removed the medallion from his neck, and Anders' heart beat faster as he did so. How long before the man realised what it was?

"I told you... the demon dressed me. I was... distracted at the time."

The amulet now dangled in front of his face. He stared at it. And then at Hawke. And then Anders felt the uncomfortably sharp glare of his own brown eyes.

"I know what this is. Why do you have a Tevinter Chanrty amulet?" His eyes flicked angrily back to Hawke. "Why did you _give_ him a Tevinter Chantry amulet? _Magisters_ wear these. I knew it! All your talk about how there can be _good_ mages - but really, you just want to be one of _them_ ," Fenris spat.

It was strange and terrible to hear Fenris's rage and accusations expressed in his own voice. It cut deeper, somehow.

"Now hang on!" he said, feeling a need to defend himself. "Is it really so bad? To be - to be grateful for a symbol - just a _symbol_ that there is somewhere in the world where mages are _safe_ , and _free_ , and _valued_."

"You _stupid_ , _conceited hypocrite!_ " Fenris shouted, getting to his feet. Magic began to crackle in the air. "You think this is a symbol of freedom? This is a symbol of _domination_. _Subjugation_. You..."

Fire began to crackle about his hands, and Fenris stopped, staring down at them, just as Hawke threw a shield around him to contain the wild magic.

"Stop it!" Hawke shouted. "I gave that to Anders because of what it would mean to _him_ , not because of what it means in Tevinter. You don't have to like it - but however you see it, it isn't about that."

Fenris glared at Hawke, but the magic flared and his attention jerked back down to his hands. Fine blue lines began to appear in his skin. Fenris gasped. "No!"

"Stop it, Justice," Anders yelled. "That's not helping. Fenris - just... try to separate your anger from the magic."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Fenris said, panic in his voice. "How do I stop this?" The flames flared up, and Anders had to reassure himself that his body would be alright. A mage's fire didn't harm himself... usually.

"Try to calm down," he said, forcing himself not to shout. "You must feel how the fire is feeding off your rage. You either need to find a way to stop being angry, or you need to stop reaching for the magic when you do."

A broken laugh floated out of the ball of fire that encased Fenris. "'Stop being angry.'" The sarcasm and disbelief was palpable, but after a few moments, the flames did seem to die back, until finally Fenris was panting and leaning against the tiled wall of Hawke's bathroom, smoke drifting about him.

Hawke cautiously dropped the shield. "Have you... calmed down?"

Fenris glared at him, brown eyes flint-sharp. "No, Hawke, I have not. But I realised that I had..." he glanced at Anders, "reached for the Fade as I would have for the power of the markings in my skin. So I stopped doing that. After all," he flexed one hand. "I can still kill him with my fists."

Hawke rolled his eyes. "OK, come on. "You're not going to kill him over a necklace."

"A _magister's_ necklace," Fenris corrected.

"A _free mage's_ necklace," Anders' snapped back. How could Fenris not see how their struggles were the same? What true freedom would mean to him?

They glared at one another, but eventually Anders looked away. He didn't like staring into his own eyes like that.

"Anyway," Hawke said, standing and walking hesitantly over to Fenris. "I didn't feel any enchantments on it, but maybe there's something I missed. We could get Sandal to take a look?" He held his hand out to Fenris.

The elf... no, not an elf now. A human. A human mage, whether he liked it or not. Fenris. Fenris sighed. "Fine," he said, thrusting the amulet at Hawke. "But do not be surprised if the dwarf recognises the evil in it, too."

Anders groaned, but reluctantly pulled himself to his feet also. As much as he wanted Hawke's gift to be innocent, if it was at fault they would at least be a step closer to figuring this out and getting him back in his own body.


	8. In which the amulet is a problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take the amulet to Sandal to have a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter. I'm ill (as usual) and this is all that I can get out for now, but I have moved the plot on. Next chapter will see Anders and Fenris get to be awkwardly alone in each other's bodies \o/

"Bad," Sandal said, after looking at the amulet in Hawke's hand. "Don't like it." He pushed the hand away.

Smiling with satisfaction, Fenris looked to Anders. But the impulse to gloat diminished when he saw the sadness in his own features.

"But," the mage said, "but it's just a necklace - a holy symbol - there was no enchantment on it."

"It is a symbol only 'holy' to the Black Divine. The symbol of a Chantry the supports slavery and corruption," Fenris said, needled that the man would still defend the object.

"Oh," Anders said, sadness now replaced by an acid stare. "So, much like the one we have here, then."

Fenris rolled his eyes.

"Stop it," Hawke said. "You're not helping anyone." He turned back to the young dwarf. "Can you tell us anything about the amulet? Is it enchanted?"

"Enchantment," Sandal said firmly. "Bad enchantment - I don't like it," he said again.

Anders folded his arms and turned away. Fenris tried not to be unsettled by the fact that he was looking at his own body from behind. The swirls of lyrium that curled up his arms. Anders scratched at one of them absently.

"Fine," Anders said. "It's enchanted. That doesn't actually get us any closer to figuring out what happened, or even if it was the amulet's fault." He turned back, but avoided Fenris's gaze, looking directly at Hawke. "I was wearing that thing all day and nothing happened until the morning after you gave it to me."

"You're still defending that thing," Fenris said.

Green eyes flicked to his. "Oh stop it, would you? Yesterday I felt just a little less alone in the world because Hawke gave me something that means hope to mages, and today that's been stripped away from me. And you're gloating because that's gone - because I can't have anything nice."

Hawke sighed dramatically, stepping between them. "Sorry, Bodahn," he said, ignoring them both. "I know it doesn't sound like it, but we really appreciate Sandal helping us out."

"That's alright, Messere," he said. "I'm just sorry my Sandal can't tell you anymore."

"Don't apologise," Hawke said, "he's been a big help. Here." He crouched down and pressed some coins into Sandal's hand. "Why don't you go get yourself something nice?" he said.

"Sweeties?" Sandal asked, a smile like sunshine brightening his face.

"Sure," Hawke said, "or whatever you want." He tipped a wink at Bodahn as he stood, and the elder dwarf thanked him profusely.

Hawke looked from Fenris to Anders as Bodahn and Sandal left. "So. How about we see if we can't find a Tranquil down in the Gallows who can tell us a bit more about this enchantment?"

Anders stared at him wide eyed. "No. Absolutely not."

"Anders, look, I know you're unsettled, but rejecting every idea-"

Anders glared at him. "That's not what I mean," he said. "You can't take _him_ down to the Gallows." He looked pointedly at Fenris. "If he loses control of his powers there that's it. For both of us. They'll take him to the Circle and quite possibly make him - me - Tranquil. I'm not letting you risk my body like that. And whatever you think of me," he went on, pushing white hair from his eyes, "I don't want that happening to Fenris either."

Fenris blinked. He hadn't really considered that as a possibility. Self-consciously, he rubbed at his forehead - stopping abruptly when Anders snorted. It was disquieting, though. What would it mean to have his feelings removed? Could it really be so bad? Feelings were something he had shoved deep down inside him long ago, until sometimes it seemed like all that was left was rage. It might be a relief to be released from that.

 _It is something Anders greatly fears_. The spirit's voice suddenly in his mind - its deep disquiet at the notion seeping into his thoughts and making it his own. _This is not something you would want. It is more than just not feeling. It is not dreaming. It is having no desires of your own. It is unjust. It is enslavement to whoever would take you and bend you to their will._

Fenris cleared his throat and pushed back against the intrusion in his mind. He did not like that Justice's thoughts could so easily affect his own. But he had to admit that if such were the case, Tranquility would be an even greater invasion.

Hawke and Anders were looking at him. "It... perhaps would be best if I were to stay behind," he admitted.

Hawke pursed his lips, but nodded. "Alright," he said. "And Anders, I think you'd best stay here, too. It's easy for Templars to mistake what Fenris does as magic, and I'm not sure you're fully in control of that either."

Anders bowed his head, but nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

Hawke put the medallion into his pouch, but put his hand on Anders' arm as he went to leave. "I'll get you a better present," Hawke promised. "I'm... I'm really, truly sorry if my gift was the cause of this."

Anders looked up, smiling, and Fenris was unsettled to realise how much that smile brightened his face. Did Fenris's nose crinkle like that when he smiled, or was that just how Anders smiled? "Don't worry," the mage said, "It's fine. You don't owe me anything. It was a wonderful surprise to get anything at all."

Hawke looked like he might have gone on to say something else, but then he glanced from Anders to Fenris and shook his head. "I'll fix this for you," he promised. "There has to be a way to get you both back where you belong."


	9. In which Orana likes Anders better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris find ways to occupy themselves in Hawke's absence.

Hawke left, leaving Fenris alone with Anders in a very empty feeling house. Presumably Orana was still here somewhere, but the girl's fawning manner and persistent deference grated. He still wished Hawke had been able to find her a job that didn't fit so well with her ingrained servitude, but Fenris's attempts to persuade her of her equality had remained awkward and frustrating. He dreaded to think how such a conversation might go with him in the body of a human mage.

_Anders believes she will come out of her shell in time._

Justice's musing surprised him. _I thought you were going to hold your mind back from mine_ , Fenris thought, trying to direct the words at that unsettling presence.

Unease washed over him, making his skin prickle. _You are right, I apologise_.

Fenris felt the second presence in his mind retreat, and was troubled to feel some of his disquiet lessen - not simply in relief that the demon had withdrawn from him, but because he realised that much of that unease had been Justice's. Did it truly not wish to possess him as thoroughly as it had Anders?

He shook his head to clear it. "So," he said, looking at Anders, who was scratching at a line of lyrium on his arm again and looking pensively at the doorway as though still thinking about Hawke.

Anders glanced at him and snorted. "Right. Now we get to kick our heels while Hawke goes off to save the day." He continued scratching distractedly.

"Stop that," Fenris said. "You'll only make yourself sore. If you leave it alone you'll find you can ignore it after a while."

"Oh joy," Anders said, rolling familiar green eyes in an unfamiliar way. He was so... animated. Fenris wanted to take his face in his hands and hold it still. He did not like to see his own features giving so much away. "Let's hope we're not in this situation long enough for me to get used to my skin constantly humming and itching." He sighed dramatically, but shook his hands out as though to dislodge the impulse to scratch. "I'm going to go read a book. Hawke has enough in his library and I know he hardly touches them. Someone should."

The mage turned and left, Leaving Fenris truly alone.

No. Never truly alone now he shared a body with a demon. He shuddered.

He ought to find a way to occupy himself, though. A way that did not involve talking to a demon.

Undoing the moth-eaten cloak Justice had put about his shoulders, Fenris began his morning routine of exercises. He would not be relying on Anders' magic to defend himself, and he would not be able to draw on the power of the markings, so he should test the strength and flexibility of this body.

Anders had more in the way of muscles than Fenris would had thought. As he had not dressed himself, he'd had little time to explore his new form, but rolling up his sleeves now, he found Anders arms to be firm and toned, covered in a dusting of blond hair that was thicker than his own, but still less than many humans.

The mage fought with a staff, and though it must function as a focus for magic, Anders swung it almost like a martial weapon in battle. Perhaps he should get hold of a staff for however long he was stuck in this body. Not a magic one - but even a plain wooden pole could be useful. It was unlikely Anders would have the strength to wield a full-sized two-handed sword, but that need not leave Fenris without any kind of weapon.

He would ask Hawke. In the meantime, he should practice for fighting unarmed.

Fenris began moving through his routine. Stretches first, and then movements to test and improve flexibility and control. Anders... was not as nimble as Fenris was accustomed to. He was taller and broader than Fenris was used to being, and several times he found his balance wavering from moves that should not have been a challenge. He slowed and went through them more carefully.

Whatever strength Anders had, it was clear his body was not used to moving in the ways that Fenris pressed it to. His muscles quickly developed a distinct ache, but Fenris carried on. If he was going to live in this body, it needed to move dependably.

Fenris had built up a light sweat before a misjudged lunge caused him to stumble, and he looked up to see Anders watching him from the doorway.

He wiped his brow and glared at the mage.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Anders said, grinning. "I don't think I've ever moved like that. It's quite the sight."

"I thought you were reading a book," Fenris said, folding his arms.

Anders shrugged and looked down. "Yes, well..." he fiddled with the leather-covered tome in his hands. He cleared his throat. "It's... weird. Not being in the same room as my body - don't you find?"

Fenris frowned. Was it weird? "I find it strange to be looking at myself from the outside," he admitted.

Anders shifted uncomfortably. "Does it bother you, then... for me to be in here?"

Fenris grunted. It bothered him to have to be _discussing_ this. Of course the situation was uncomfortable; he wasn't sure what it helped to talk about it. "Do what you like," he said, though exercising with an audience held rather less appeal. "I was just finishing up, anyway. Your body is... stiff. And cumbersome."

Anders laughed. "Thanks. Your body is short."

Fenris pursed his lips, but didn't rise to the bait.

He was hungry, he realised. Perhaps he would have to talk to Orana after all. He started to head to the kitchen.

"Come on," Anders protested, "I didn't even put any effort into that. You were much ruder to me."

Fenris didn't bother looking back. "I'm hungry. I'm going to find food."

Footsteps behind him - the mage was following. "Right. OK. That makes sense. Having been stuck with _your hangover_ I wasn't even thinking about food, but I suppose I should have breakfast, too," the mage said. "To be honest, I'm surprised you're not starving. Grey Wardens tend to have a bigger appetite than most people, and I guess, well, you're the Grey Warden now, aren't you?"

That gave him pause, he turned round. "This is just your body. I have taken no vows."

Anders snorted, pushing white hair back from his face. "Is that all you thought it was? I wish that was all it was. I mean... well, I probably shouldn't tell you everything - this is only temporary after all - but the joining, it changes you. Makes you... stronger, and hungrier. At first all you want to do is eat; though that does calm down. You'll also find you can sense darkspawn; although with any luck you won't have an opportunity to use that particular talent. And there are nightmares - but those are a lot less when there isn't a Blight. Archdemons kind of get darkspawn excited I think. I still get them sometimes, though..."

Did the mage never stop talking? "Right. Fine. I am going to find breakfast." He turned back and set out for the kitchen again.

Thankfully, the mage did not respond, but Fenris heard him following.

Hawke's kitchen wasn't far, and sure enough, Orana was waiting inside.

She bobbed a quick curtsy. "Good morning messeres, can I get you anything?"

Fenris repressed a shudder. "Do not trouble yourself," he said, hoping to be able to find something to eat on his own.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, Messere Anders," she said, already beginning to sort through the cupboards, bringing out a frying pan and a bottle of oil.

Fenris's eyes widened. _She thinks I am Anders_.

But of course she did. Why would she suspect otherwise?

While Fenris was still frozen in surprise, Anders pushed past him. "Thank you, Orana," he said, smiling that smile that looked so strange on Fenris's face. "Could you maybe do us some bacon and eggs?"

Orana hesitated in surprise. "Of course, Messere Fenris," she replied, though her voice was somewhat more stilted. "Messere Hawke always says I'm to feed Messere Anders well if he stops by."

Blotched red suffused Anders' face and even the points of his ears flushed pink. The mage was blushing. "Oh," he said. "that, ummm, that's good of him."

"A-and of course I am happy to serve you, too, Messere Fenris," Orana added swiftly, though her eyes darted from Fenris's body to the one he truly inhabited, and it was to the latter that she smiled.

 _She doesn't like me_ , Fenris realised. _But she does like Anders_.

"Will Messere Hawke be joining you?" she asked, looking again to Fenris in Anders' body, not addressing the elf.

"He's out on an errand," Fenris managed to say. "He asked that we wait for him here." He wanted to protest that he could cook for himself, that he didn't like to have another elf serving him like this, but... _She enjoys it_ , he realised. _She likes serving Anders_. And yet it was not as he had expected. She didn't fawn over him, and she wasn't as overly deferent as she had been when they had first found her. She smiled. She busied herself about the kitchen with practiced ease.

 _This is her space_ , he realised. _She would not want someone else to use it_. It was an uncomfortable realisation. The girl had continued to be painfully stiff and formal in his presence, always insisting that he allow himself to be served. He had thought it was because she still yearned for servility, but the warmth of the smile turned on the person she perceived to be Anders was not servile at all. And her stiffness - barely even looking at the real Anders in Fenris's body - was not that of a slave avoiding her master's gaze, it was simple dislike. It was a woman trying to get on with her day without having to deal with someone difficult.

And in response, Anders looked smaller, hunched in. Trying not to bother her now that he realised he wasn't welcome.

But then he took a breath and straightened himself. "Maybe we should have something to drink," he said, looking at Fenris, then his eyes flicking to Orana.

"Ah, yes," Fenris said, catching his meaning. "Perhaps just some w-" he had been going to ask for water, not wanting to trouble the girl too much, but the minute shake Anders gave to his head made him reconsider, "... some orange juice?"

That warm smile again. "Certainly," she said. "I have some fresh squeezed in the pantry. Let me get that for you while the oil heats up."

As she left the room, Fenris's eye caught on the book Anders had put down on the table. He pulled it swiftly over to himself, earning a frown from Anders.

"She would think it strange for me to have this," Fenris explained.

Anders rolled his eyes. "This is absurd. We should tell her."

Fenris shook his head. "No, it is too strange, she won't understand."

Anders sighed. "She's not a child, Fenris. She grew up amongst blood mages, she's seen weirder and more horrible things. I'm telling her. Everyone else knows."

Fenris wanted to protest, but as he opened his mouth, Orana re-entered the room.

"Orana," Anders said, drawing her attention. "There's something you should know."

The girl's smile became stiff. "Oh dear, is something the matter?"

Anders laughed. "You could say that. You see... we've had a bit of a magical accident. That's what Hawke is off looking into."

Her eyes went wide and she set the orange juice down on the table. "Oh no!" she said. "Whatever's the matter?" She was looking to Fenris, and he was acutely aware that it must be because she would rather hear bad news from Anders.

"We've swapped bodies," Anders said bluntly, and Fenris closed his eyes against the embarrassment.

"You...?"

" _I'm_ Anders and _he's_ Fenris," Anders went on.

A hand on his shoulder made him start and open his eyes again. Orana was looking at him with concern. "Anders... is this a joke?" she asked him.

He shook his head and found his voice. "It is not a joke. I am Fenris. Hawke gave Anders some cursed amulet he found and-"

"We still don't know it was the amulet," Anders interjected.

"Please," Fenris said. "Now is not the time. We know the amulet is bad."

"You _are_ serious," Orana said, staring at first one, then the other of them.

Anders winced. "Sorry, I'm sure you don't need to deal with something like this. But I thought you should know."

She tilted her head, considering. "You do seem very different this morning," she hesitated, looking at Fenris again, then back to Anders. "And I do not think this is something Messere Fenris would joke about."

"I wouldn't joke about this either!" Anders protested.

She gave him a funny little smile. "Messere Anders jokes about many things." She sighed and sat down on the stool at the end of the table, thinking.

"Alright," she said at last. "I will wait to hear what Messere Hawke says. Until then, you still need breakfast." She nodded, satisfied with her decision, then got up to get further things from the pantry.

"You see," Anders said. "She's fine."

"She doesn't believe us," Fenris noted.

"She doesn't know whether to believe us," Anders corrected, "which to be honest seems very sensible. And it's better than watching you pretend awkwardly to be me all morning. Here," Anders said, reaching over for the jug of orange juice. "Just have your orange juice and be grateful she still wants to make us breakfast."


	10. In which Anders doesn't like being alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders struggles to be alone with and without Fenris while waiting for Hawke. Eventually Hawke returns with questionable news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Anders' POV.The barest hints of imagined future smut.

It was lunchtime before Hawke returned, leaving Anders to spend an awkward couple of hours trying to occupy himself in Fenris's reluctant company.

After a breakfast in which Fenris seemed to surprise himself with his capacity to eat, Anders had returned to the library to read. He'd hoped Fenris would do the same, but the warrior didn't seem interested by books and had soon disappeared off to another part of Hawke's house.

And Anders yearned to follow him.

The library was too quiet. His _head_ was too quiet. In the absence of Justice he felt his heartbeat rise every time he was left alone. Silence felt vast and yawning about him, and he felt a disquieting urge to talk his own thoughts aloud just to fill the space.

It was a bad habit he'd picked up in solitary confinement - one he didn't like to think he could fall back into so easily.

He took deep breaths to steady himself and tried to concentrate on the words on the page. He hadn't always needed a companion inside his head in order to manage being alone. Had his time with Justice changed him so deeply?

No. He just had to get used to it again.

But it would be easier if he knew where Fenris was. It would be easier if he could see his own body and know that it, and Justice, were OK.

It was hard to accept, but Fenris didn't seem to feel the same anxiousness for his body. Or if he did, the man hid it well.

He had spent a few minutes poking Hawke's shelves and flipping through the odd tome, but when none caught his fancy, Fenris had simply left the room. Perhaps to exercise again.

That had been a surreal sight. Watching himself move like a warrior. But not like some fighters, who chopped through their enemies with brute force and violence - when Fenris had moved with Anders' limbs it had looked almost beautiful. He had seen his muscles stretch and strain with a kind of grace and was intrigued, if a bit disquieted, to realise that there was something attractive about his own form.

Not that he'd been unaware of his own good looks before. He could even admit that at one time he'd even been rather vain - before Justice. But he'd never seen himself... from the outside. As another man might see him.

And then Fenris had stumbled and broken the spell. Which was probably just as well.

Fenris probably wasn't exercising again. Or maybe he was. How often did a warrior need to work out?

Anders flexed the muscle of Fenris's arm and felt the firm bulge of his bicep appreciatively. Perhaps that was what Fenris spent all day doing in that dreary mansion when he wasn't being called on by Hawke for some random errand. But a brief morning workout a few times a week was all that Anders could normally mange. If Fenris were to push Anders' body the way the elf would push his own, Anders could see only pain and exhaustion in the man's future.

Or possibly his own, if he got his body back.

Maybe he should find the elf to warn him off over-doing it. Yes. That was a better reason than, 'Being alone in my own head kind of freaks me out.'

Anders closed his book and went to find his body, and the moody elf that currently inhabited it.

Fenris was not in the main hall. Nor was he back in the kitchen with Orana, who was confused and only tentatively amused by his question of, "Have you seen me?"

She had not seen him. Or Fenris in his body.

Anders' heart was starting to beat fast again when he heard an enthusiastic barking coming from upstairs, followed by something confusingly similar to his own laugh in response.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Anders ascended and soon found Fenris just inside Hawke's bedroom, rubbing vigorously at the dog's belly.

"What are you doing?" he asked from the doorway.

Fenris turned to look at him, still scratching Dogger's hairy stomach. "I am communing with this noble beast," he said with a tone that might have sounded haughty and serious in Fenris's deep baritone voice, but which seemed faintly ridiculous in Anders' light tenor.

Anders snorted. "'Noble'? That slobbering wreck?"

Dogger whined, though he did not stop wagging his tail.

"Ignore him," Fenris sighed. "You are of a far more noble breed than he."

Anders' smile died on his lips. Perhaps he was still joking, but it was hard to ignore the fact that Fenris genuinely did show more respect for a dog than he would for a mage.

"Right," Anders said, folding his arms.

"Did you want something, mage?" Fenris asked, rocking back on his heels and looking up.

"You're the mage now, you know," Anders said, pointedly.

"Temporarily," Fenris replied.

Dogger rolled back onto his feet and whined at Fenris for attention, earning him an absentminded rub between the ears.

Anders shook his head, he didn't want to start another argument. Not when Fenris was in possession of his body and Justice both and the disquiet within made it difficult to be apart from them.

"I just wanted to check what you were doing," he admitted. "I don't like... not knowing where my body is. Or Justice, for that matter. And I wanted to make sure you weren't over doing it with the exercise. You can't just throw my body into the kind of training you'd usually do, you know."

Fenris sighed and stood. "I know that, mage. But I need to make sure I can move in it in order to protect myself."

"You won't be able to protect yourself from much if you sprain all my muscles," Anders replied.

Fenris looked at him with a kind of lidded disdain that seemed very strange on Anders face. "I will be careful," he said. "Come," he addressed the dog. "We will go downstairs so the mage doesn't fret because he can't see us." He looked at Anders as he passed. "And you will be able to go back to your reading."

Anders wasn't sure if Fenris had heard him say "Thank you," in return.

 

***

 

Hawke had returned a short time later with a very intrigued-looking Varric in tow.

"Well, well, well," the dwarf said, looking at each of them in turn. "I heard you boys got yourselves into something of a muddle."

"You could say that," Anders replied, looking up from the bench where he sat half-reading a book on healing infectious diseases.

Varric smiled at him impishly. "Is it true? Or are you just pulling one over our Hawke here? Prove you're the real Anders: tell me who Isabella was writing about in that 'friend fiction' she showed us two nights ago."

Anders laughed, and then grimaced. "Donnic and Sebastian," he replied, earning choked laughter from Hawke and a wild guffaw from Varric.

"Yeah, that's him," Varric said. "Fenris had left before she got to the good stuff."

"This is how you prove our identities?" Fenris said with wry disdain.

Varric shrugged. "Only when it's a memorable thing I know you don't know, Broody." He tipped a wink at Anders. "And it _was_ memorable."

Anders was surprised to find himself grinning. Somehow Varric always seemed to find a way to brighten his mood. "I'm glad you're here," he said.

"Are you able to help?" Fenris asked.

Varric sighed. "Don't know, Broody. Won't know until I poke a few holes and pull a few strings. You never know what other people know until you ask. Can't say I've ever heard of anything like this before, but if it's happened, you can bet your ass someone out there is talking about it."

Anders turned to Hawke. "Did you have any luck with the Tranquil?" he asked.

"Yes and no," Hawke replied. "I talked to one in the Gallows who confirmed that the amulet is enchanted, but she also said it was strange - different to other enchantments she had seen. There's a tiny rune near the top that marks it as different to most Tevinter chantry amulets, but it's not dwarven or any kind of rune she recognised, so she didn't know what it meant. She also advised me that it would be unwise to show an amulet like that in the presence of Templars... which, upon reflection, is pretty good advice. I figured it would be best to stop flashing it around the Gallows after that."

"Great," Anders said. "So we're not really any further on than we were this morning."

Fenris snorted, but whatever comment he wanted to make he thankfully kept to himself.

"I don't know about that," Hawke said. "It's a start. And I was thinking after lunch I might make my way to the Black Emporium and see if old Xenon has any thoughts on the matter. I kind of think that if you're stuck in a living corpse you might have looked into what's involved in taking over someone else's body at some point."

The noise Fenris made in response to that was decidedly less amused. "That place is steeped in dark magic, and if he would consider such a thing he's a maleficar of the darkest sort."

Hawke raised his eyebrows. "Be that as it may, if he knows how to do it, _he hasn't_ , and if he doesn't know how to do it he still might be able to tell us where to look, so let's hold off on dismissing people who might help us out of hand for now, OK?"

Fenris said nothing, but the stillness with which he held Anders' face somehow spoke volumes.

Varric whistled. "Hell of a thing seeing Fenris's expressions on Anders' body. Does that bother you?" he asked Anders. "Something like that'd sure bother me."

"You have no idea," replied Anders.


	11. Hawke visits the Black Emporium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke talks to Xenon the Antiquarian and makes a deal in exchange for some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Anders or Fenris, but the plot moves along...

As Hawke made his way across the creaking wooden bridge that led to the heart of the Black Emporium, he heard the echoing laugh of its proprietor: Xenon. A man who had wished to live forever, but forgot to wish for eternal youth.

"Ha!" the desicated man exclaimed. "Hawke! Yours is a name that has _grown_. I... have a potion somewhere that will do that for your body. Somewhere... behind the stuffed druffalo. The urchin will know."

"I actually came for some information," Hawke said, "if you're in a talking mood."

Xenon hacked out a chest-rattling cough. "That depends," he said. "Is it... _valuable_ information?"

"Potentially," Hawke hedged, having no idea how to price the cure for Anders' and Fenris's problem, but suspecting that anything Xenon might know would be cheap to say, but expensive to buy.

"Well," said Xenon, seeming to enjoy Hawk'e discomfort. "Why don't you ask me your question and I'll determine the price?"

Sighing, Hawke nodded. "I need to know if you have ever heard of anything that might cause one person to change bodies with another," he said, refusing to feel absurd voicing such a thing in the presence of a man who would rightly be long dead himself, if not for strange, dark magic. "And I need to know if it's possible to reverse such a thing."

"Hmmm," Xenon hummed, "That _would_ be interesting. I will tell you what I know in exchange for a favour," he said, decisively.

"What _kind_ of a favour?" Hawke asked.

Xenon began to answer, but his words were lost to another coughing fit, the noise sounding wet and unpleasant. "An equal favour," the Antiquarian responded when he was recovered. "Details to be confirmed at a future date, but you shall owe me information on some matter important to me but of little cost to you - does that sound right?"

Surprised, if a little mistrustful, Hawke nodded. "Alright. A favour for a favour. You have my word."

Xenon gave a bark of ghastly laughter. "My dear boy, you give yourself too freely. Never give you word before it is demanded. But I shall take it nonetheless. So," he said. "I have heard of such magic, yes; though I had not given it much credence. I have read that certain magisters of Tevinter would use it as a kind of... safe guard. There is a... legend. The great Magister Lucius was said to be steeped in power, but very sickly. He had bolstered his health with  _sacrifices_ and many  _dark arts_ , but his form remained feeble. So he read from the  _forbidden texts_ of the Old Gods and learnt that there was an ancient symbol that could be carved into an amulet whereby the wearer of that amulet would be marked as a  _vessel_ for the soul of the magister. The magister need then only drink from a potion blessed by the Old God, and he would be transported to the body that had been prepared for him.

"Of course," Xenon went on, "In the tale the magister becomes greedy. He buys many beautiful slaves - young and fit - and he places a marked amulet around each of their necks. But a - a plucky fellow-" he broke off coughing, before resuming his tale, "-a plucky fellow - and a warrior, of course, discovers the meaning of the marks and murders the magister before the potion can ever be used." Xenon sniffed. "I took it for _moralising nonsense_ , designed to teach us _humility_ ," he said that last word with particular disgust.

Hawke tried not to show his eagerness. The amulets with the ancient marks fitted only too well with what they knew. "These... amulets," he said. "Do you happen to know what the mark on them looked like?"

Xenon snorted. "There is _always_ an _ancient_ but unnamed symbol in tales such as these. I read it in a collection of fables and folk stories. There were pictures, but their focus was rather more the _dramatic_ content. Dragons and Evil Sorcerors and so on."

Trying not to hold his breath, Hawke asked: "Might I have a look at that book?"

Xenon grunted. "I will need to get the urchin to find it. I do not believe I have seen it for two hundred years. I will send it on to you. If you choose to keep the book we will consider one book to be part of the favour owed. Are we understood?"

Hawke nodded. "Understood," he confirmed. "But you haven't answered the rest of my question: do you know how such a spell might be reversed?"

Xenon's laughter was as unpleasant as before. "My dear boy, I had no reason to think that such a spell would _work_ and the story did not deal with the possibility of it being _reversed_. There I cannot help you, but if anything occurs I shall let you know."

"Thank you," he said. It was not everything he might have hoped, but it was a place to start.


	12. In which Anders is rather admiring of Fenris's chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders express concern about the deal Hawke struck with Xenon. The boys agree to stay at Hawke's until the situation has been resolved, and both Anders and Fenris learn a bit more about each others' bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little mild perving occurs.

"So, you're indebted to Xenon now - that can't be good," Anders said, picking at the remains of the food Orana had served them.

He'd spent a frustrating afternoon kicking his heels in Hawke's library while Fenris played with the dog, or paced, or did yet more exercises that Anders was sure he was going to suffer for later. Fenris insisted that he needed to get comfortable in Anders' body so that he could move properly in a fight, but Anders still thought he was overdoing it.

Hawke coming back with news from the Black Emporium was something of a relief, especially as it did seem to move them slightly closer to understanding what had happened, but it wasn't a solution.

"He said whatever favour he asked for would cost me nothing," Hawke replied. "That doesn't sound so bad."

Fenris grunted. "Deals with demons never do," he muttered.

Hawke rolled his eyes. "Xenon isn't a demon, Fenris."

"He isn't exactly _safe_ either, Hawke," Anders cautioned.

Hawke shrugged. "Well, none of us are exactly 'safe'. I think it was worth it. We have somewhere to start." He tapped the amulet that now sat before them on the table. Anders had been sad to know that Hawke's gift was as tainted as Fenris had assumed, but he wasn't stubborn enough to put it back against his skin. Even if Fenris would have let him - which he'd made clear he would not.

"Right," Anders said. "So. We know why this happened to me, I guess. But we don't know why Fenris was involved - I can't imagine there are too many potions blessed by the old gods lying around."

"And I do _not_ simply drink anonymous potions I happen upon," Fenris said, pointedly.

"Sure," Anders said. "Because you were stone-cold sober and making all the best decisions, last night."

Fenris glared at him, and though Anders smirked to have gotten a rise, he looked away, uncomfortable under the gaze of his own eyes.

"Perhaps we'll learn more when Xenon sends us over this text. There could well be details he missed in the retelling."

Fenris grunted. "Perhaps." He pushed his plate away. "I should get going. It's late."

Anders looked up, surprised. "You're just... leaving?" he said, unnerved by the idea that Fenris would happily walk away with his body and he wouldn't have any idea where it was.

"It is late," Fenris repeated, his expression unreadable.

"Umm," Hawke said, looking between them, "Why don't you both stay here for the night? There's plenty of room. Just until we get this sorted?"

Fenris pursed his lips, his eyes settling on Anders for a moment, and then nodded.

"Alright," he said. "For tonight. I suppose it will be easier to get started tomorrow if we are all in one place."

***

Hawke gave them each rooms on the ground floor near to each other. Fenris nodded goodnight and closed the door behind him as soon as he was able.

Not that he was alone even then. He could sense the spirit's disquiet and puzzlement that he had wanted to leave Anders and his body behind.

"It is not unreasonable that I should want some time by myself," he said out loud, wanting to keep his thoughts as separate from the creature that he was now imprisoned with as much as possible. "I have been in constant company all day and even alone I cannot escape _you_. I wish to be in my own room. With my own things."

 _And yet you do not think of that place as your own_.

Fenris grunted and ignored the comment. He began to undress - freeing himself from the moth-eaten clothes Justice had dressed him in that morning.

As he removed his shirt, he caught a reflection of Anders' body in a long mirror that sat in the corner of the room. Curious, he walked over to it.

There were things he had begun to adjust to as the day progressed. He was starting to get a feel for Anders' height and reach, and he understood why the mage pulled his hair back from his face to keep it out of the way. But this... was different.

He looked different, in a way he had not yet taken the time to explore. He ran a finger around the curved rim of Anders' small ears. It tickled, but the skin there was not nearly as sensitive to touch as his own ears would have been.

Shirtless, he could see that Anders was muscular, as he had felt in taking this body through its motions earlier. But he also now noted a large scar in the centre of Anders' chest. How had he survived such a blow?

 _It happened soon after we first joined_ , Justice admitted, seeming to have been drawn in by the memory. Fenris felt strange and conflicting emotions emanating from the spirit. _I was able to save him from it, and the men who attacked him, but..._ The spirit pulled back from him. _But perhaps this is a memory he would not wish me to share with you_.

Fenris nodded and looked away from the scar.

It was one of remarkably few on Anders' chest and arms. Fenris himself rarely scarred. Something in the power of the markings helped him to heal faster than most, and Danarius had always ensured there were healers available to tend to his pet. He supposed Anders was a healer himself. With the exception of what should have been a fatal wound to his chest, it was likely that Anders had been able to heal any wounds he had received without a mark.

It was a shock, then, to look over his shoulder in the mirror and see the web of ugly scars that marred Anders' back. He groped behind him to feel the slight lines and ridges that he now saw marred the mage's pale skin.

"What happened?" he asked the air. "Why didn't he heal these?"

 _He did,_ the spirit's thought filtered through to him. _Later_. _I believe it was not permitted at the time, so there are marks. But they do not pain him_.

No, of course. Fenris had felt no tell-tale pull against the skin as he had moved through his routines. The brutality spoken to by the scars suggested that at least some had cut deep into the muscle, but there were no unusual lumps - no deep stiffness under the skin.

"What happened?" he said again.

Justice pulled back from him - walling him off. _These are Anders' scars. Anders memories. I do not think they are mine to share._

No. Perhaps not. And perhaps Fenris had pried enough for one night.

Fenris turned away from the mirror and, slipping free of his trousers, pulled himself into bed.

 

***

 

Anders also found a mirror in his room, and despite his earlier determination not to encroach on Fenris's privacy more than necessary, he found it hard not to stare when he caught a glimpse of Fenris's naked, muscled torso as he prepared for bed.

" _Maker_ ," he muttered, momentarily transfixed by the vision before him. He hadn't quite had the wherewithal to fully appreciate the refined shape of Fenris's body when he had awoken, naked, but deathly hungover, in Fenris's bed.

He ran a hand down the firm planes and solid bumps of muscle that structured Fenris's chest. "I guess," he swallowed, "All that exercise..."

Experimentally, he lit the brands that ran through Fenris's skin, being careful not to reach too far and end up falling through the floor into Hawke's basement.

Light swirled across his skin, complementing the warm brown tones and framing those muscles. A low burn spread with that light, but with the beauty it revealed in the mirror, it was worth it.

Anders wasn't sure he'd ever seen a man so perfectly formed. So... _sculpted_. And as he stared wide-eyed, he found himself growing hard.

Flushing, Anders turned away and extinguished the light of the markings. Looking was one thing, but if he was actually getting _turned on_ perving over Fenris's body... which he was currently in... well. It was time for bed, really, wasn't it? He shouldn't be looking at... things or thinking about... stuff.

He shook his head to clear it and removed Fenris's leggings, ignoring the semi-hardness of Fenris's cock.

He really needed to get a hold of some elf-sized smalls. He wasn't used to sleeping naked. In a body composed entirely of rock-hard muscle.

"Andraste guide me," he muttered, and blew out the light.


	13. The memory of darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders struggles to sleep alone in the dark and turns to Fenris for help.

Sleep eluded Anders. At first he was simply over-conscious of Fenris's body. So much was within easy reach: his impressively firm thighs, the rounded curves of his arse. The way he could feel the muscles moving just under the skin with every movement. If this were a lovers' body, he would have been all over it.

But it wasn't. It was Fenris's body. And he was in it.

Eventually a sense of propriety won out over the temptation to enjoy this new form, and with it, unease over the differences between this body and his own grew.

Fenris's ears were much more sensitive than his, and the rub of the pillow against them was distracting.

He felt... smaller. Especially in the dark. His limbs were densely muscled, true, but they were also more slender. Objectively, Anders understood the differences between human and elven physique and knew that there was nothing childlike in Fenris's form. These arms wielded a two-handed sword. These hands could snap a neck like a twig, or reach into someone's chest and pull out their heart. Fenris was... a little terrifying, to be honest.

But he wasn't Fenris. And in this body, he just felt... small.

Small and alone in the dark.

He reached for Justice - for so long a constant comfort, letting him know he wasn't alone or powerless - but the spirit wasn't there.

Other memories of dark solitude plucked at his awareness.

This wasn't a cold, unfeeling cell. It was warm. The bed was soft. There was no lock on the door. He could be in someone else's company any time he wanted; he just had to open the door and find them.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Solitary confinement was a long, long time ago. He was safe in a comfortable bed in Hawke's house. Kirkwall. Not Kinloch Hold.

And  yet... everything felt wrong. Even his skin felt wrong. The markings only really burnt when he used them, but he could still feel them. They made slight ridges in his skin, and the skin around them felt... packed. Tight. Foreign.

And his blasted ears. He rubbed over them - as though he could rub off their sensitivity - but somehow it just made him more aware of them. Made him more conscious of the way that everything felt... off.

It was uncomfortably similar to the sensory hallucinations that had itched over his skin when he'd spent too long alone. When the guards refused to even talk when delivering his food. He'd lost track of time very quickly, but sometimes it had seemed like he hadn't heard another person's voice in months. And sometimes he hadn't known if the voices he heard were real, or in his head, or were the voices of demons trying to tempt him as the solitude drove his waking mind closer to the Fade.

It was no good. He needed light. He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating in darkness.

Anders threw off the covers and stumbled to the door, where dim light from the fire in Hawke's hearth filtered down into the corridor.

This was Hawke's house. He was at Hawke's.

Anders took deep, steadying breaths. He knew who he was. He knew where he was.

He was also, he realised, naked. He couldn't just stand in the corridor like this. But he didn't want to be alone in the dark room, either. He could relight his candle... but he didn't know where the matches were. He could light it from the fire in the living room, but he still couldn't do that naked.

Groaning, he forced himself to turn around and find Fenris's leggings in the dark. After a brief struggle, he managed to get them back on and headed out with his candle.

The fire was only embers, now, with a large mabari stretched before it. Dogger whined as he approached and Anders gave him a passing pat.

 _Wish you were a cat_ , he thought. A little furry, purring body to curl up with and let him know he wasn't alone would have been just the ticket, but there was no way he was going to try to persuade this beast back to his bed.

He lit the candle from the embers and walked back to his room.

The rumpled bed looked... unappealing. Would it be so very different with the light, once he closed the door and was alone again?

It wasn't just the memories of his confinement, it was... being in _this body_. It was not being able to see or feel his own. It was being away from Justice, who had become so much more than a companion - a part of his mind, in truth. He _thought_ differently without the spirit.

Everything was wrong.

Turning away from his own door, Anders walked over to the room where Fenris slept, his heart beating hard in his chest. This was not a conversation he could see going well, but he really didn't want to go back to bed alone.

Anders knocked.

There was a grunt in response.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

A pause. "If you must."

 

***

 

Fenris woke from a fitful sleep to a knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" His own voice. Unnerving, disorienting on waking from sleep. But he remembered, now. He was in Anders' body. Anders was in his.

And he felt the spirit stir within him. _Please let him in_ \- the thought almost more an impulse than words.

Fenris sighed, sitting up. "If you must."

Anders entered, and Fenris saw his own face and body illuminated by flickering light. Anders was wearing only his leggings.

"I'm sorry," Anders said. "I can't... I can't sleep on my own. I don't want to sleep on my own. Not being able to see my body, or feel Justice. It's... distracting."

Justice's concern washed over him, for a moment blotting out all his own thoughts and emotions. Anders shouldn't be alone - he needed someone there to protect him, to comfort him, to ground him in the present.

Fenris pushed roughly back at the spirit with his mind, his heart beating fast as panic rose.

The spirit retreated, a sense of apology tinging the overall anxiety and concern for Anders.

"You... wish to share this bed?" Fenris asked.

Anders nodded. "Please," he said. "I know it's awkward, but... being separated from my body like this... it really doesn't bother you at all?"

They question surprised him. "Of course it bothers me."

Anders frowned. "But you wanted to go away - all the way back to your mansion. I... just the thought of that..."

"I wanted to be alone," Fenris said. "I have been with people all day, and there is a constant presence in my head - I don't know how you an stand it, never having time to yourself."

Anders laughed. "I've had enough time by myself to last a lifetime."

He sat down next to Fenris and raised a hand. "May I?" he asked, holding the hand over Fenris's shoulder.

Fenris shrugged. "I suppose."

Anders laid his hand on Fenris's shoulder... although in a sense it was Fenris's hand being laid on Anders' shoulder.

The sense of connection was immediate. It was strange to feel the pressure of his fingers from the outside; the way the lyrium made his skin buzz was both similar and different to how it felt from within. But to be in touch with his body again? Yes, it was a comfort. A tension he had not known was pulling at him seemed to ease. Was it Justice's tension or his own? Fenris suspected it was both.

"We can share the bed, mage," he said.

"Thank you," Anders replied, and Fenris could hear the relief in his voice. There was more to this than simply not being in his own body - if such a thing could be deemed simple. The spirit's anxiety that Anders not be alone hinted at something more, but now was not the time to enquire. Anders rose, placed the candle on the dresser, and climbed into the bed from the other side.

When Fenris laid down again, he felt Anders scooch closer.

It should have made him jump when the mage pulled him into his arms, but something about it felt right. To be held by his body wasn't as good as being in it again, but it soothed something inside that had been taut and aching all day.

He heard the mage sigh behind him, and it seemed to make Justice relax, too. _Thank you_ , the spirit thought, _he needs this_.

Fenris was surprised to realise that he did, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bedsharing \o/


	14. Waking up together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up with Fenris in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taking so long between updates at the moment. I'd actually forgotten that I'd written this scene. It's been hanging around in my drafts for a couple of months at least. It was meant to be the first scene of several in this chapter but I don't know when I'll get to writing more as life is being very life-like at the moment. I thought I might as well share this to keep you going in the meantime :)

Anders woke to find the comforting pressure of a warm body in his arms for the first time in years. He smiled.

_Justice, how did you allow this?_

No answer. No sense of his mental companion at all.

An icy spike of panic shot through his body, and then he remembered.

He was not in his body.

His body was in his arms.

The broad shoulder he rested his cheek against was his. The blond hair that tickled his forehead and smelled of elfroot and straw and human sweat was also his.

He was holding himself. And Fenris.

He straightened and began to withdraw his arms. Anders' body stirred. It was disturbing to see his own form - and to know that it was his - when it was moving without his command.

For a moment, the hand that had been loosely resting against his arm pressed down on it to prevent it withdrawing, and then Fenris stiffened - the whole man going rigid in his arms.

"Sorry," Anders said, carefully. "I was trying not to disturb you."

For another breath, Fenris remained stiff, and then he relaxed, releasing Anders' arm.

"Of course," he said.

As Anders withdrew and sat up, Fenris rolled onto his back and looked up at him. The light was dim, with the curtains drawn, but it was not completely dark. The cover had slipped down to reveal his chest. Fenris was looking up at him. Too dark to see the honey brown, but not to feel the regard.

"How are you?" Anders asked.

"Uncomfortable," Fenris said, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry," Anders said again, aware of how tolerant Fenris had been to allow him into his bed at night and how invasive it must have been to wake up with arms about him.

"You do not need to apologise," Fenris said. "It is..." He looked away. "It is this presence inside my head, I..." Fenris winced, and then surprised him by saying, "He is very worried about you. I admit, I had not expected for this... spirit, to care so much for your welfare."

That was rather touching, if embarrassing. "I'm fine, Justice," Anders said, quietly. Then added. "Thank you for letting me stay the night. I, umm..." How could he tell Fenris about the year he had spent alone and what it had done to him? How much it had meant to have Justice always with him. He could not. "It was just unnerving to, uh, to be alone. I guess as strange as it is for you to not be."

Fenris opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it and shook his head.  "It is fine. As you say, this is... strange."

He sat up, and for a moment Anders was strangely conscious of their naked torsos so close together. He cleared his throat.

"We should dress," Fenris said, sliding out of bed, revealing to Anders the site of his own naked buttocks.

Anders laughed. "You're still sleeping naked. In my body."

Fenris looked over his shoulder, frowning. "It is not something you haven't seen before."

He snorted. "Fine, OK. Whatever works for you, I guess." If Fenris was that at ease being nude in Anders' body he must not be feeling any of the confusing attraction Anders had felt on experiencing Fernis's toned form naked. Perhaps that was for the best. Things were confusing enough.


End file.
